Savin' me
by HitTheKillSwitch
Summary: When her best friend Liz is kidnapped by a serial killer, Maka Albarn tries going to the police. But when there's no clues and no progress, what other choice does she have but to team up with her annoying (but intuitive) classmate Soul Eater and race against the clock to try and save her herself? Can these two mystery-loving teens save Liz before it's too late? AU
1. Did you believe them?

Death City becomes a really a fitting name when you consider all the serial killers it's been home to- Mary Dell, The Greenroad Killer, David Bone, The Reaper, etc. To be honest, I've lost count by now- they just seem to flock to Death City like moths to a flame. The open parks and cute little side streets in downtown lose some of their appeal when you think of it that way.

Fortunately, the Death City police force is known world-wide for their effecient methods, intuition, and skill when it comes to catching criminals. The dozens of books I've read at the library on them state that almost all the major criminals that struck Death City have been arrested in only the few weeks or so that they've managed to stay at large. Pretty impressive, huh? That's what I thought at first, too. But unfortunately, there's one black spot on the clean, impressive records the police force holds. He swept in like storm, striking fear into the hearts of citizens throughout Death City. I'm not trying to glorify or romanticize him, believe me. This guy was one sick bastard. His reign of terror lasted for several months, casting a shadow over the usually bright and/or cheerful city. That's right, I was there, in Death City, originally just another one of those terrified citizens. I remember every detail...

My name is Maka Albarn, and I'm writing this journal so you can know the REAL story behind the Son of Sam-his motive, his story, and his downfall (with some other bits about me and stuff thrown in). Yeah- the REAL story. So that means the ones the cops force-fed you were fake. What, did believe the news reports? Did you accept the cookie-cutter excuses, the stiff, clean story? Really? Well, you should've, it was on the news. That doesn't make it true, though. Not everything is like in the movies, clear cut and simple.

Actually, it's a pretty complicated story...

"We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. and there will be more of your children dead tomorrow. " -Ted Bundy

**XXX**

**Okay, so first off- Yes, the Son of Sam was a real serial killer. The reason I used his name was because 1. I couldn't think of a name 2. You'll find out later ;)**

**Second, I think I watch too many crime dramas (Castle, Psych & Criminal minds, anyone?) because they're starting to affect my writing -_- The title? Well, all my titles are based off songs, and this one is Savin' me by Nickleback. Also, the chapters will get longer, I promise- this is just the intro.**

**Third, I'll have She's a little runaway! (a story from my old account) up once I re-write the first chapter (I forgot to save it).**

**Love you! Don't forget to drop a review ;)**


	2. Just a few minutes

Well, where should I begin? As I said, it's a pretty complex story. Hmm… I guess the best place to start is with the kidnapping of my best friend, which was most likely my fault…

_XXX_

_Why does winter in Death City have to be so dang cold?_ I thought to myself as I pulled my jacket a little tighter around my body. You'd think that it would be warm in the winter since Death City is in Nevada, but Death City seemed to have a climate of its own. The only good thing that really came out of winter was the weekly Hot Cocoa dates with my best friend Liz. Just the thought of it warmed me up inside. I snuggled my face into my red scarf to hide my smile. Every Friday, Liz and I would meet up at Death Bucks for a break from the cold and to discuss any gossip left untouched during the week. When Patti wasn't reading to kids at the elementary school and Tsubaki had a break from martial arts practice, they would sometimes join us. Unfortunately, today wasn't Friday. I frowned as I kicked at the snow that no one had bothered to shovel off the sidewalks. There wasn't any ice, right? I had just come from the library, and there were at _least_ twelve books crammed into my small red backpack. The weight of the books already hurt my shoulders- I preferred not to land on top of them as well.

Just then I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Hurriedly, I yanked it out in case it happened to be a call. It wasn't- just a reminder. _Hot Chocolate Date with Liz at four today ;)_ flashed at me on the screen. Wait, what? It was 4:00 _now_! Did I seriously forget? No, wait… it was Friday?! I thought it was Thursday!

Well, that just meant I'd be a bit late, right? I could just call and say so. After dialing the number that I knew better than my own, I realized I had a very big problem on my hands- no cell reception. Lucky me.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket. I was on Syntel St. and I needed to get to Main. If I ran, it'd take me about ten minutes. There was almost no one on this street, so I wouldn't have to worry about hitting anyone. Liz would probably be mad that I forgot, but at least I'd make it there. Besides…

"You there! What are you doing?" A woman's voice called out worriedly from behind me. I whipped around nervously, but calmed down almost instantly. It was just an old lady, leaning out the door of a bakery that I didn't realize I had stopped in front of. She had a warm face, with laugh lines around her eyes and curly gray hair plastered to her scalp. Plus, she leaned heavily on a cane, so she didn't seem like to much of a threat.

"Well, to be honest, what you're doing doesn't really matter." The old woman decided. "Just go somewhere where there are a lot of people around. Haven't you been watching the news? A nice young girl like yourself, alone, is too vulnerable right now. Go on! Go!" She shooed me with the hand that wasn't resting on her cane.

"Yes Ma'am. I was just going." I said, still a bit nervous. What she had said was true, and even if I hadn't heard it on the news, I could've heard it anywhere else- in class, the hallway, on the street, in the grocery store, basically anywhere with people. I waved to her before taking off running, with a hasty 'thanks' thrown over my shoulder. Like I said, she was right- it wasn't good for young girls to be by themselves with everything that was happening. A dark feeling latched onto the bottom of my heart. It wasn't myself I was worried about, though- it was Liz. I didn't realize I was supposed to meet her, and since I was running late, didn't that mean _she _was alone?

There wasn't much for me to worry about when it came to me- self-defense, some supplementary martial arts lessons (complimentary of Tsubaki), and a lot of time self-training at the gym gave me a pretty big advantage. Hey, getting roundhouse kicked in the face by someone who runs 10 miles a day doesn't sound too fun, now does it? But Liz, as strong a person as she is, is more of a weapons-person. I know she took a gun-training course together last year with her sister Patti, and that they dominated the entire thing, but that'd only be helpful if Liz ever so happened to carry a pistol around wherever she went.

Panic made my legs move faster and faster as I ran, my blonde pigtails streaking out behind me. Shops and signs flew past, my brain not bothering to register them until my feet finally hit Main St. Thankfully, there were more people, but not enough to make me feel a ton better. Before the Son of Sam came, there were crowds and crowds of people spilling into Main St. to check out the small stores and explore the side streets. It's always been the most crowded street in Death City, hence the name _Main_ St. The comparison of then and now was just sad.

I finally reached Death Bucks, which probably holds the title of the most popular café ever. Flinging open the door, I was only half-prepared for the strong smell of vanilla and coffee. I wrinkled my nose at the intensity as I searched small crowd that had gathered in the corner by the baked goods, my heart pounding loudly, though I wasn't sure if that was from running, or fear. No Liz. I glanced at the café tables behind the glass wall giving a clear view outside. No Liz. What about the line to get coffee? Nope. What about in the bathroom? I jogged across the café to the bathrooms, glancing at the clock as I went by. 4:06. I guess fear really did make my legs go faster. I pushed the door open, my throat feeling tight as I realized the bathroom was deserted. Backing out of the bathroom, I debated my options. I would've checked the men's, but that would've been stupid. Did I have cell reception? Yes!

I dialed her number, impatiently waiting for her to pick up.

Voicemail.

I dialed again, this time faster.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Really, Liz?! I jogged back over, cutting through the line of people waiting patiently to buy cups of warm heaven (and earning several angry cries in the process) and reached the cashier. The smell of coffee and vanilla were even stronger up at the counter than they were by the door. Looking at the cashier, she seemed nice enough. Her coffee colored skin went well with her tan apron and reddish-brown T-shirt. The name tag pinned to the front read _Andi _in bubbly handwriting.

"Uh… Miss? You have to wait…. In the line…" She said nervously, pointing to the annoyed people behind me. I didn't even look at them.

"I know, but I don't need coffee and I don't have time to wait." I showed her my phone, pointing to the screensaver of Liz, Patti, Tsubaki and I. We all had on silly faces, but we did in most of our pictures.

"Have you seen her today? Did she come in?" I demanded, pointing to photo-Liz. "We were supposed to meet here at four, but she's not here and she won't answer her phone. Please, try to remember anything."

There was a noticeable change in her demeanor. Gone was the nervously polite smile and casual posture. Her face became serious. She must've made the same connections I did.

"Oh, geez… it's Friday, too…" She murmured, shaking her head. I saw the women behind me cross herself and the cashier next to Andi grimace. "Well, let me look at that picture better." I gave her the phone, watching her study it intently.

"Yeah… yeah, she did come in!" Andi said in relief. "She sat at the table over there and waited. She didn't buy anything, so I assumed she must've been waiting for someone-you, probably. Then… I had to deal with a particularly loud customer, so I was distracted, but afterwards I think I saw her talking to some guy in a black hoodie, then… oh my gawd, did she leave with him? I think she did! Oh my…" She pressed a hand to her mouth, horror written on her face.

"And it's Friday, too…"

I left the café almost immediately afterwards. Andi had offered to take me to the police station, but I declined. After thanking her, I just ran out of there. I'd call the police myself… What more could I do, though? Liz was already gone. I felt myself beginning to crumple. Why couldn't I have been just a few minutes earlier? This was all my fault.

I slowed down, the feeling of _What have I done?_ starting to overwhelm me. Putting my hand out, I leaned against the brick wall of whatever building I had stopped in front of this time. What on earth possessed Liz to go with some mysterious stranger wearing a black hoodie while a _serial killer_ was on the loose? On a Friday, too! Fridays were his hunting days! Did she… did she do it because I was a few minutes late? The tears started falling at the thought of that. How could just a few minutes matter so much?

I slid down the wall, my knees giving out. My palm probably got all scratched up from sliding it down the brick, but I didn't care. I didn't feel it, anyways. What was I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, calling the police. Numbly, I brought my phone out once again. I heard the operator come on over the line.

"Hello… my name is Maka Albarn…and…" I slowly began to explain, feeling more and more tired with each word.

Liz was gone…

My best friend was kidnapped by a serial killer, and she only had about one week to live.

"Total paranoia is just total awareness." –Charles Manson

**XXX**

**Sorry for any mistakes, but it's six in the morning and I'm reaaaaallly tired because I have yet to sleep today. But, I really wanted to post a legitimate chapter for you guys, not just an into. So, here you go. Poor Liz :( Seriously, why would you follow some random dude in a black hoodie? How was that a good idea, Liz?! *sighs* By the way, how many of you caught my lame bit of irony with the pistol thing? Anyone?**

** You'll understand the whole 'Friday' jazz later. Maybe you figured it out already- there was a pretty big hint in here. Anyways, what did you think of chapter (technically) 1? Good? **

**Love you! Don't forget to drop a review (it gets you faster updates)!**


	3. Lie to me

"So, Maka, you believe your friend has been kidnapped?" The female officer- Detective M. Fallson, I read off her name tag - said, dropping into the seat opposite of me, behind the cluttered desk. She folded her hands on top, leaning forward, her gaze drilling into mine. "Are you _sure _she didn't just leave and go home? That_is _a more likely scenario."

I'll be honest, by then I wanted to smack someone. Badly. And if someone didn't start doing something other than tell me I didn't know what I was talking about, smack someone I would.

After I had called 911, a police cruiser came to pick me up. I'm sure I wasn't the prettiest thing to look at- red eyes from crying, tangled hair thanks to the wind, flushed face from running- but the officer had been nice. He tried to make conversation with me on the way to the station, but I hadn't really had the heart. I just leaned against the cold window, my cheek slowly freezing to the glass until we reached the station.

Once I got out of the cruiser, I kind of stared at the station for a second. The D.C.P.D (Death City Police Department) was Death City's pride and joy, thus a lot of money went into funding it. The building was one of the bigger and grander ones in Death City, though it didn't quite beat the DWMA. The DWMA was a private, elite school people all over the world came to. I enrolled there, only being able to make it in on a full academic scholarship, since I lived on a students' ramen-noodle budget. Actually, our govener, the ever eccentric "Lord Death", lived in the DWMA. It was Death City's number one attraction, but the D.C.P.D was a close second, so it was worth taking a moment to look at-even though I saw it every day on my daily commute to school.

The station was three stories tall. The first floor was dedicated to kidnapping, rape, robbery, petty crimes and homicide. The second was dedicated towards terrorism, hate crimes, and crimes involving other states or countries. The third floor dealt mostly with corruption, political crimes, embezzlement, etc. Very little was heard from the third floor, and most of the crimes being dealt with on there remained very hush-hush.

The building was old-fashioned, with Victorian architecture and stone steps leading up to grand double doors. Four stone pillars stood at the top of the steps, holding up the ceiling covering the short platform before the front doors. The windows were tinted, so you couldn't quite see inside, but I've read up on the history of this place at the library, so even if I hadn't been inside yet personally, I knew what it looked like before I stepped inside. Walking up the steps, though, I noticed something I hadn't read about at the library, nor noticed while walking to school every morning- etched into the stone above the doors were the words- _The greatest justice is Death._ I felt a shiver run up my spine before pushing open the doors.

Then the games started.

The first thing the police did was sit me down and tell me I was extremely confused and needed to calm down. That didn't go over too well- I tried to insist I wasn't confused, my best friend was missing. Andi, the cashier from the café, saw Liz leave with some shady-looking guy and now I couldn't contact her! Still, the police didn't believe me and claimed Liz was perfectly safe, probably relaxing at home while all of this went down.

If that was so, I needed to have some _words_ with my best friend.

But of course, I wouldn't believe Liz was chilling at home watching _The Notebook _unless I could prove it, so I asked if I could call her home phone. Obviously, they agreed.

Now, Liz lived with two other people- her younger sister, Patti, and a guy named Death the Kid (Kid for short). Is that a weird name? Yes, but that's not the point. Are they related? No, but I'll explain that later. The point _is, _when I called her house phone, I wasn't necessarily expecting her specifically to answer. If Kid or Patti were to answer, it might actually be better, because then I wouldn't go ballistic on her in the middle of the police station while surrounded by several police officers already worried about my mental health.

_"Hello?"_ A male voice answered. Okay, Kid answered.

"Hey, Kid, is Liz there?" I asked nervously.

_"Oh, hello Maka. No, Liz isn't here right now- isn't she with you for your weekly… ah… what was it called? Well, you know. She's not with you?"_

Well, shit.

I hung up without responding, which probably made Kid start to freak out a little bit, but I didn't care. I'd call him back later.

The officers responded a little more to that. They started asking me a bit more about what had happened, anything I remembered, did Liz seem off at all before I lost contact, etc. I told them everything I knew, including Andi's story. Eventually, the officers led me to their superior.

This led me to where I was now- talking to Det. Fallson, who apparently still believed Liz was at home, safe and sound. Talk about going in circles.

"Yes, I'm _sure_ she didn't just _leave_ and go home." I ground out. "Were you here when I called her house and cell phone SEVERAL times- and she didn't answer? Or when I explained the cashier _saw_ her leave with some random guy?"

"So she left with her friend. Case closed." She concluded, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. I stared at her, no longer in disbelief. Was this lady for real?

"Without calling me?" I argued.

"Maybe she forgot." Det. Fallson offered.

"And turned her phone off, and didn't go home yet, even though it's been…" I checked the clock hanging crookedly on the wall, "Two hours?"

"She could be having fun."

"… I want to talk to your supervisor." I finally said flatly. She looked at me, irritated. I matched her glare. Honestly- there was a serial killer terrorizing Death City (and has been for almost four months now), and they were going to tell me that I had nothing to worry about? I don't think so. If I wasn't getting anywhere with this lady, I was going to speak with her damn supervisor.

"Fine. Come here." Det. Fallson sighed, standing up before gesturing for me to do the same. She led me out of her stuffy office before pointing me to a waiting chair in front of a conference room. It was placed conveniently underneath a window displaying the inside, giving me a view of what looked like six or seven angry men in front of a scribbled-on white board.

"If you want to talk to my 'supervisor', you'll have to wait until he's done with the meeting." She said, a smirk on her face. "Have fun."

The door to her office slammed. I'm not really sure why she had an office- she didn't seem like a very good detective. In an act of childish rebellion, I stuck my tongue out angrily at the closed door before angrily stomping over to the waiting chair, dropping into it tiredly. Actually, the more I looked around, the more small details I noticed about the officers in the station. Any smile shown wasn't quite genuine, and gave off a worn-down feeling. Most officers sported bags under their eyes, and there were an unusually large amount of coffee cups scattered around on the desks. The entire department seemed tired, and tense. I guess the Son of Sam case was wearing them out more than I realized.

Just then the arguing going on the opposite side of the glass got a little louder. I could only make out a few words here and there, but it sounded like they were arguing about the Son of Sam case, too. I turned slightly to glance through the window, hoping it'd tell me a bit more about what they were arguing about.

The white board was, again, the first thing I noticed. Someone had written SON OF SAM- CASE DETAILS at the top in big black letters. I skimmed through it briefly- there wasn't much I didn't already know. The Son of Sam case was _huge_. Every Friday, one girl (or possibly several) disappeared. One week later, fingers, toes, eyes, tongues… anything small and easily chop-able were packed into mason jars and shipped to their families. Mutilated bodies had been found at his dumping-grounds- dark alleyways in the Death City ghettos- so, not very specific.

All that information was on the board… but all that information had also been released to the press. You could read about it in the newspaper. I frowned. Shouldn't the cops have some information about the Son of Sam written on the board, too? What about info about the dumping grounds? Where was the info about the jars used to ship the dismembered body parts? What about the _leads_? I found it slightly strange that there was no info other than the main case points.

The arguing had yet to cease, but I still couldn't quite hear it. Maybe this could be a good chance to play detective. I wiped the dried tears off my face, a small feeling of excitement building. I loved mysteries. Not necessarily under these circumstances, but playing detective was usually my favorite game.

I slid out of my seat. The door to the conference room was around the corner, and unfortunately, it was closed. I walked slowly and as casually as possible to the door, throwing glances over my shoulder at the cops bustling around the cluttered desks. No one really paid any attention to me, thank goodness. I couldn't get in trouble for a little eavesdropping, right? No, of course not.

I hesitated at the door. Everyone in the room would notice the door opening if the hinges were as squeaky as the ones on Det. Fallson's office door. I could hear the voices much better from here already, so I just dropped to the floor (It was clean… I think), pressed my ear to the door, and prayed no one opened the door on my face.

"What are we supposed to tell the press?" An irritated, tired-sounding female voice spoke up. "People are scared. They need answers, soon."

"My people are doing the best they can!" A loud, strict male voice shot back. "Have you seen how tired they are? They're overworked and underpaid. We need time!"

"You've had your _time!_" Someone answered angrily.

"Johnson is right. This bastard has been at large for almost four months." Sleep-deprived said. "People are already starting to doubt us. Once they find out we have no leads…" I felt my blood run cold. What did she mean, they had no leads? The D.C.P.D has been on the Son of Sam case for months!

I felt my faith in the D.C.P.D begin to falter. Ever since I was little, these guys have been my heroes. No matter the case, the D.C.P.D closed it within a few weeks. Now they were saying they had nothing? At all?

"What about that one girl? The one who came in a few hours earlier looking like she had been hit by a truck or something?" The guy named Johnson offered. I scowled. Oh, excuse me?

"Yeah, what about her?" Loud and Strict asked.

"Didn't she say her friend went missing earlier this afternoon? What are we supposed to tell her?"

"We already have over 20 girls missing. Our reputation is almost as good as crap. What is the public finds out another girl went missing?"

"I'm not sure. I made sure Det. Fallson gave the girl the run-around, but what are we supposed to say!" Sleep-deprived sighed. "Like I said, the public is unsettled enough already. If they find out about this…"

"What if we just… _not_ say anything?" Someone who hadn't said anything yet said slowly, her voice smooth like honey. There was a brief silence, like the weight of the suggestion was settling in. I felt it, too.

I didn't like it.

"…What do you mean, Sgt. Arachne?" Sleep-deprived asked darkly. I felt my scowl deepen. There were a lot of rumors about Sgt. Arachne… mostly about seducing her bosses to increase her opinions sway in the D.C.P.D. Listening to her voice and considering her suggestion… I wouldn't be surprised to find out that most of them were true.

"I've done a few background checks on this girl- the one that went missing." Sgt. Arachne said. I could just _picture_ a smile on her face, probably waving her background-check paper-things in the air confidently. My mood turned black, any traces of excitement I had felt from getting to play detective long gone

"This girl is a drifter." Sgt. Arachne continued. "Liz Thompson is a 16 year old girl with a sister two years her junior, Patti Thompson. When they were younger, they lived on the cheap, moving from place to place. Their dad died when she was three and her mom was a low-life junkie. An alcoholic. A whore. She probably couldn't even recognize her kids if you showed them to her. When she was 12 years old, she finally took her sister and ran. They lived as crooks. Petty thieves. Eventually, they made names for themselves on the streets of Brooklyn as the notorious Thompson Sisters, the demons with pistols."

"You're point is?" Sleep-Deprived demanded.

"My point is, she's a runaway." She responded, unfazed. "A lowly criminal. Do you know how many women in the United States vanish each year? Dozens upon dozens. This girl has run away from home more than once! Who's to say she didn't just... disapear again?"_ I SAY SHE DIDN'T! _I wanted to scream. _I KNOW MY BEST FRIEND_!

"Well..." Sleep-Deprived hesitated.

"What about her friend, the one who reported her?" Johnson insisted.

"Easy. We'll give her the same excuse." Sgt. Arachne dissmissed. "If she is as close to her as she says, she'll know about Thompson's history. The girl will be easy to sway."

"Well, it might buy us some time with the public..."

"I guess it's not a BAD idea..."

"We can always change our minds later on..."

Stunned. I was completely stunned._These _were my heroes? My 'Defenders of Justice' that I always dreamed about after reading dozens of articles and biographies and documentaries? These corrupt, lying jerks?!

I felt _pissed._

Standing abruptly, I marched away from the confrence room. I felt sick to my stomach. It was hard to believe that only a few hours before, I was glorifying them. Now, Liz was going to die because they didn't want to ruin their reputation. Wait, scratch that, a _ton_ of other girl were going to die because they couldn't get any other leads other than what was given to them.

No one paid me any mind as I stormed to the front doors. Actually, I think I recieved a few relieved glances from the officers when I finally flung open them open. Breathing deeply, I slammed them shut as hard as I could. It was hard since they were so heavy, but the feeling of satisfaction that came when they shook with the force was worth it.

Snow drifted down from the sky. I raised my face up, wondering when it began to fall. I must've been in the station longer than I thought. I sighed, remembering I needed to call Kid back and let him know what was going on. Poor guy would probably be worried to death, though.

I looked back down, but instantly regretted it, for leaning casually against one of the pillars was one of the last people I wanted to see. He grinned widely at my glare, weirdly sharp teeth gleaming.

Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the one and only Soul Eater- also known as my arch-enemy.

_An Entry from Liz_

Everything felt fuzzy. The dark room I was in went in and out of focus while I tried to gather my bearings. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the bluriness from my eyes. Whatever drug this guy had given me, it was pretty strong.

Pressing my palms to my head to try and calm my pounding migraine, I tried sitting up only to find out I liked it much better laying on the ground. Did he hit me over the head just in case the drugs weren't enough? Gee, thanks, I loved to be concussed.

I tried looking from side to side... but I couldn't really see anything. Just to my right... there looked like an open doorway. Someone seemed to be standing in it, though I couldn't see who it was- just the silhouette of a man. I wish I had the energy to spit at him or cuss or do _something_, but I was just too damn tired...

...so, I let myself slip back into unconciousness.

"The police shall never catch me, for I am too clever for them." -The Zodiac Killer

**XXX**

***IMPORTANT***

**Since this is techinically in journal form, whenever it switched POV, it just means someone else writes an entry, like how it says 'An entry from Liz'. Sorry if that's confusing.**

***END OF IMPORTANT***

**It's really late as I write this. Unfortunately, it wasn't as long as I had hoped (only like five pages on Word) but then again, writing longer chapters has always been a failed goal for me *shrugs* Thanks bunches to my friend Fingersofbone for reviewing :) You are awesome!**

**Anyways, Liz is alive (as of right now)! But, apparently drugged and concussed. Sorry, Liz :( In other news, Soul made an apperance! Yay!**

**Love you! Be sure to drop a review! **


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